Stolen Legend
by Knight 12167
Summary: In the aftermath of Morgana's brief and brutal reign as Queen in Camelot, Excalibur is stolen by a mysterious thief, her intentions unknown. Wary that the threat of the legendary sword is the only thing keeping a weakened Camelot safe from invasion, Merlin and Arthur set out in secret to recover Excalibur. Will they succeed?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The armoury of Camelot housed the finest weapons in all of the Five Kingdoms. It was a place where the trophies of fallen soldiers, greedy goblins and even kings were housed, all showing the victories of Camelot. The many secrets that the dim room contained were incredible. The price of the smallest of daggers could easily feed a family for weeks, yet the dark clad thief only had eyes for one blade.

The weapon had only days ago been pulled from a stone and led the people of Camelot into battle against the dark witch Morgana and the forces of the cruel warlord Helios. Now it rested in a dark glove which quickly faded away leaving only the soft rustle of the wind in its wake.

* * *

Merlin winced as a tomato thrown by a wild eyed boy collided with a spatter of red into his dark hair as the merchants and shoppers of the Upper Markets watched on in amusement. Merlin glanced up slowly, wary not to bang his head on the frame of the stocks that he was trapped in. Arthur, the newlywed King of Camelot waved down at him from the lower battlements of Camelot Castle with a huge grin plastered across his face. Merlin had only joked about the new hole he had to make in Arthur's belt to cheer him up – he didn't find anything more unbearable than the moping King - and it seemed to have worked, except at Merlin's expense. Even though the young king had only recently married to his beloved Guinevere and most days could be found in soppy eyed happiness with his wife moments of sadness often came to him when he remembered the smuggler, Isolde who had died in combat to save his life from Morgana's ally Helios.

The children eventually ran out of rotten fruit and the marketplace lost interest so Merlin was freed by a chuckling guard. After buying some herbs from a grim faced old woman at the apothecary by the city gates, he began to makes his way up to the castle, absentmindedly plucking mouldy fruit from his neckerchief, dreading the raised eyebrow Gaius would undoubtedly force him to endure.

Merlin was roused from his thoughts by a shrill cry of alarm. He turned, seeing a hooded figure, running at speed towards the gates of the city followed by several red-faced guards clutching spears. It was obvious from the figure's speed that the guards would not be able to catch the thief – the black garbs quickly giving away the figure's intent. Merlin considered using subtle magic to aid the guards but after quick consideration he realised the trouble he would land in if he was caught, especially so soon after Morgana's attack. It just wasn't worth the trouble for some lowly thief.

He moved to turn way, refocusing his attention on the chores he still had to finish, when a gleam caught his eye. Clutched awkwardly between the gloved hands of the thief, was Arthur's sword, Excalibur. He would recognise it anywhere, and he knew for a fact that the blade had been placed in the armoury, to stay safe should the time arise that it was needed again – he was the one to put it there after all. His heart pounding in his chest, his mind swirled with wondering questions. How did they know about the sword? How could someone break into the armoury, when it was constantly surrounded by royal guards? Was it an ally of Morgana? What is the thief going to do with Excalibur? Sell it, use it? And, perhaps most importantly, _what should he do?_

Before even pausing to formulate a plan Merlin took off in pursuit. The words of the Great Dragon springing to mind immediately, if any man beside Arthur wielded the weapon forged in the dragon's breath then terrible evil would be released on all the kingdoms of the world. _Kilgharrah's _rage when Uther used it briefly to slay a wraith was proof of the terrible truth of the prophecy. He increased his pace, quickly passing the guards and slowly gaining on the thief. It was times like these when his lanky frame and long legs came in handy. Over the last few years of quests and adventures he had certainly improved his running speed, although he was usually sprinting away from danger, not headlong towards it.

The figure quickly sensed Merlin's presence, glaring back at him with a glowering hatred infused in deep brown eyes almost obscured by the dark cloth of the hood. Merlin held his gaze at the thief, noticing for the first time the soft contours of the thief's body. It was a woman!

'_Emrys'_

The single word that reverberated through Merlin's mind was soft and gentle, the voice of a young lady, confirming Merlin's thoughts. A moment of surprise followed, for the thief was both a woman, a warlock, and someone who knew his name as he was known amongst the secretive Druids. She used this brief moment of uncertainty to her advantage, shouting a word even as her eyes glowed with an intense gold.

"**Ecg misse**!"

The words of the Old Religion hummed with a great power which surged through the air, guided by the woman's outstretched palm. Merlin and the pursuing guards who were only a few paces behind him were immediately knocked from their feet. Merlin hit the ground hard, his head striking the cold cobblestone of the street. Pain spiralled through his body as his vision flared with intense colour and then began to fade to black. The last thing he registered before fading into unconsciousness was the clatter of hooves upon the stone of the city gates.

The thief had escaped.

_Excalibur was lost_.

**First fan fiction. Big thanks to my awesome beta reader WhatIMustWrite. Did you like my story? Should I keep writing? Reviews are much appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Merlin?... Merlin! Now is not the time to sleep, I was looking forward to seeing you in your favourite servant robes for the opening ceremony of the White Hunt!…Oh, for God's sake, wake up right now or I swear I'll let that snob George replace you!"

Harsh sunlight blurred the edges of Merlin's vision as he groggily awakened. Immediately the familiar smells of herbs filled his nose. Before even opening his eyes he knew he was in Gaius's chambers. He was safe. Someone must have carried him all the way from the city gates. Wary of the dull throb of pain in his head, he allowed his eyelids to flutter open. The first thing he saw after his eyes blurred into focus was Arthur's face hovering at his bedside, change from a look of grave concern to a condescending smile.

"You keep amazing me with just how much of an idiot you are, one minute outside the castle and I have to come and rescue you, where would you be without me?" he questioned with warm-eyed amusement.

It was then that Merlin noticed some rotten turnip clinging to Arthur's favourite red tunic. He grinned back in response to Arthur's brotherly teasing, secretly surprised the regal king had bothered to carry him all the way back up to the castle. Gwen must be rubbing off on him, he thought idly. Arthur must have seen the commotion from the battlements and ran to help.

Gaius' familiar voice came from the king's side.

"Ah! My tincture of mortroot seems to have taken an effect; Merlin, be careful not to rouse yourself too quickly."

At first Merlin was content to follow his mentor's orders, closing his eyes while moaning dramatically hoping if anything he could get a few days off, maybe he could avoid the dreaded fate of the Camelot servant ceremonial robes. Arthur's presence however seemed to have awakened a thought that was just at the tip of his tongue. In a moment of inspiration it all came back to him. The mysterious thief with a command over magic, Excalibur grasped in her gloved hands and the Great Dragon's prophecy, spoken years ago in the vast caverns beneath Camelot.

Merlin leapt to his feat, throwing off his blanket in the process.

"We have to get your sword back!"

Arthur gave him an incredulous look that he seemed to reserve only for when his manservant was being particularly dim-witted.

"Don't be an idiot! Just because I pulled it out of a stone doesn't mean getting it back is worth letting someone else win the White Hunt!,"

"Oh…"

Merlin knew he would never convince the ever stubborn Arthur to leave Camelot now. The White Hunt was an ancient Camelot tradition celebrated one week after The King of Camelot's wedding, where the finest hunters of all Albion were invited to either capture alive or kill a single white stag released from Camelot on the dusk of the King's wedding day. Whomever was the first of the hunters to slay the stag and return it to Camelot would be welcomed by a grand feast and a pouch full of silver. If a most skilled hunter managed to capture the stag alive they would be rewarded an even grander feast, a bulging pouch of silks and silvers and a single kiss from the newly crowned Queen, in this case Gwen. Of course, Arthur was determined to win, he wasn't going to let anyone anywhere near his wife so soon after... Lancelot. He'd considered canceling the event, but the people of Camelot were a superstitious lot, the last time a newly married king had neglected the ancient tradition the bride had turned out to be a troll, after all.

Only a moment after Merlin had resigned to go chasing after the sword by himself; a new voice rang out from behind him. It seemed that in the commotion Sir Leon had entered unheard.

"Actually sire, that's why I came to see you. As you know, at the moment Camelot is weak after Morgana's brief occupation. She burnt our supplies, crops and our army is not nearly at the same strength as just a few weeks ago."

"What are you getting at?" Arthur replied tersely, perhaps already realising that he would once again have to put his duty as King above his beloved Queen.

"I fear that the only thing preventing a foreign kingdom, most likely Odin's, from invading Camelot is the threat of the legendary true king of Camelot wielding your sword you pulled from that stone in the forest of Asceitr. Word is sure to spread that the sword has been stolen, and if it does, an invasion that we are unprepared to fight is almost certain. The only course of action I see is to get your sword back quickly and quietly, otherwise rumour is bound to reach our enemies."

Gaius murmured his agreement; obviously he had been thinking the same thing.

Merlin could see the conflicting emotions spread across Arthur's face. After a moment he sighed quietly and took command with steel in his voice.

"Fine," he conceded reluctantly,

"We will have to go under the guise of the royal hunting party for The White Hunt. Leon, you always were a lucky shot, you and Elyan will have to hunt the white stag while we are away, I'd much prefer Gwen's brother to win than some stinking farmer. Tell Percival to stay here in Camelot to mind the cites defenses, and look after Gwen. Then, if I can drag Gwaine out of The Rising Sun he will accompany Merlin and I to get my sword back. He seems to still be drunkenly celebrating my wedding, that is after all what I should be doing right now anyway."

He shot a venomous glare at Merlin causing a sigh of exasperation. Somehow someone stealing Excalibur was his fault? Not fair!

Arthur continued.

"If anything comes up Gwen will lead the people as is her right as Queen, Gaius, I trust you'll advise her if the need arises. If we don't return by the weeks end she will have to lead the trade delegation to Nemeth, I've heard that their king has fallen ill so Princess Mithian will lead the negotiations. She is a friend of Camelot so-"

Merlin butted in mid sentence.

"Are you sure Arthur? If that trade delegation fails, you know Camelot doesn't have the crops to survive the winter and it's bound to be, well awkward between Gwen and the princess,"

Despite the obvious reasons the delegation might not go well, most obviously that the two maidens had both recently courted the same man, Merlin knew something the others did not. Gwen's first impression of the raven haired princess was being shot, while in the form of a deer. Not the best memories for subtle negotiations.

Arthur tried to control his temper only realising he had failed when his booming voice echoed through the small room.

"Merlin, I don't know what you have against the Princess Mithian, but unless you have a, really, really good reason for it, Shut up!"

Merlin flinched but didn't take a step backwards as most would when on the receiving end of Arthur's anger, he was one of few who knew the pressure the King had been under lately.

Arthur went on smoothly, his outburst quickly forgotten.

"If the nobles get rowdy about being led by an ex-servant, throw them in the stocks for a few days, oh and Merlin, go and drag Gwaine out of the tavern and then pack the usual supplies. Meet me at the stables just after the opening ceremony for the White Hunt early tomorrow morning."

He nodded curtly and stormed from the room, obviously angry at the abrupt end to his time of peace with his wife.

* * *

In a dark forest far from Camelot, a woman uttered a brief word to end her spell of scrying. She let out a soft laugh, a beautiful melody that masked her cruel intentions. Men were so predictable, everything was going according to plan...

**Who is this mysterious woman? Will Merlin be able to drag Gwaine from the tavern? Keep reading to find out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the next chapter. I have finally figured out where I want this story to go plot-wise so hopefully this will mean faster updates!**

**Please enjoy.**

…

The murmur of the massive crowd rose to an excited buzz as the King of Camelot tenderly guided his wife down the long steps leading to the main courtyard of the castle. As per tradition, the opening ceremony of The White Hunt was Guinevere's first official public appearance as Queen. The people marvelled at her beauty, gazing in awe at her fine silken dress and slightly lopsided crown. Some of the more dramatic of the menfolk openly wept, for how could such beauty been under their nose for so long without their knowledge? It was no wonder the noble Lancelot had fallen for her charms, they thought. For years the bards would sing of her transformation from old Tom the blacksmith's daughter to the finest Queen in all of Albion.

Arthur's closed fist rose and almost instantly the chatter died down. By taking the treacherous Morgana off the throne once again, and having the bravery to marry a serving girl despite the pressures of the nobles against the union, he had earned more respect from his people than his late father had garnered in his decades of rule

"People of Camelot," The King's voice rang from the stone of the courtyard. "We have gathered here on this day to honour the ancient traditions of our fathers. I must admit to you all, this next year will be a difficult one for all the people of Camelot, as we mourn what we have lost... whether it be a close friend or our crops, livestock and homes. It is in these difficult times we have all the more reason to celebrate the both traditions of our ancestors and what we are thankful for."

His affectionate eyes briefly settled on Gwen before returning to the crowd.

"Before me stands the greatest hunters in all the land, who have heeded the call of the White Hunt. Whoever is the first to slay the White Stag shall be rewarded with three hundred silvers and a feast in their honour. If one of these most skilled hunters before me manages to capture the stag alive, they earn 500 silvers and a single kiss from my lady the Queen Guinevere."

There was a low emphasis to his words, a not-so-subtle threat. The meaning was clear, the Queen was his alone. A man that stood amongst the many hunters gathered in the courtyard with a bow slung across his shoulders face twitched with the phantom of a smile, almost a grimace. He would be more than willing to take up on the king's challenge.

Gwen was the next to speak, her perfect smile hiding the fact she was trembling with nerves.

"It is my greatest pleasure, as my first act as Queen of Camelot, to announce the beginning of the White Hunt. I anxiously await the return of these brave hunters gathered here before us, may your competition be honourable, fair and bountiful. I send you all my most sincere wishes of luck and I look forward to the feast, drink and song for all the people of Camelot upon your return with the White Stag."

Since Morgana burned down most of the kingdom's crops, a feast would probably be the same as a normal meal this time the previous year but the people of Camelot cheered and clapped appreciatively anyway, for both their beautiful new Queen and the prospect of a full belly.

As Gwen gazed out at the vast sea of eyes, hanging on her every word, she reflected on the truth of her words. The White Stag was a beautiful creature and Gwen knew what it was like to be hunted, she had every wish that none of the hunters were skilled enough to capture or kill the graceful beast. Making a bad situation even worse, the possible prize for the successful hunter was an insincere and very public kiss from her. She quickly reasoned that now she was a Queen she had to uphold ancient tradition, Arthur's love was worth the trouble.

As the clamouring throng of townsfolk began to disperse, a slight hand clasped Merlin's rigid shoulder. Gwen mused her overly tense friend must be troubled, perhaps about leaving Camelot to track down Arthur's damn sword. She wasn't exactly happy about it either.

"Thank you for helping me to write that speech, I've never had so many eyes looking at me. Merlin I must admit that, without you I wouldn't have had a clue what to say!"

"Anytime Gwen, its good practice for his royal _dollop heads_ next lot of endless proclamations,"

The queen's deep brown eyes suddenly became serious. Merlin's shoes became his centre of his attention as he tripped over his own words.

"Oh uh, sorry Gwen, erm, I mean Guinevere, uh, your majesty I suppose you are Queen now and I...

"Don't be silly Merlin! Don't you dare change on me like all the others! Just... look after Arthur... and yourself of course! I don't think I could bear losing him again,"

Her solemn words continued to echo through Merlin's mind as he travelled on horseback down the streets of Camelot with the royal hunting party. A loud rumble from the young warlock's stomach shook him from his thoughts. The rich aromas of the palace kitchens where he had just fetched some supplies continued to haunt him. One of the major downsides of travelling outside Camelot with Arthur and the knights was having to survive on cold porridge and the occasional slowly cooked stew. The young man was glad when the party passed through the city gates, leaving the bustle of the streets behind.

When the city was out of sight, the party split up, deception no longer necessary. If the people knew the true reason for Arthur's departure, they would worry for their lives. Invasion was still fearfully on the edge of their minds. An eager Sir Leon and Sir Elyan galloped off to the north towards the region where the White Stag was released while Arthur, Merlin and a very hung-over Gwaine continued to canter to the east.

Arthur was the first to speak, raising his voice over the collisions of the horse's hooves, perhaps trying to forget the guilt he felt over leaving Gwen behind so soon after their wedding. "So, my brilliant plan didn't really extend as far as how we could actually know where this witch-thief went with my sword."

Merlin replied quickly, happy that the mid-afternoon ride wouldn't have lapsed into a moody silence. "Cheer up; this is definitely more relaxing than the last time we had to leave Camelot in a hurry."

He chuckled quietly when he remembered the effects of the spell he had been forced to cast on Arthur when he refused to abandon a burning Camelot to Morgana's army.

"Just remember Merlin that an archery contest is coming up soon and I hear moving targets are the latest fashion. All the knights have to compete, and if Gwaine here doesn't practice up on his archery in the meantime, you might just end up with an arrow to the knee."

Gwaine looked to Arthur with a mock look of betrayal. "I'm not that bad with a crossbow, at least compared to you with itching powder in your armour!"

As the King fumed silently, the rouge shot a toothy smile at Merlin, his hangover briefly forgotten. That had certainly been a prank to remember.

As the conversation continued, the party of three came to a halt at a crossroads on the forest trail they were following. To the left, was Lot's Kingdom, _Essetir_ where Merlin grew up and the right, the forest of Balor continued along the horizon, as far as the eye could see.

Merlin quickly went to answer the unspoken question. "We have to keep travelling east, through the forest."

"How on earth do you know?" the King's words were snappy, perhaps he was still remembering Gwaine's itch-inducing prank.

"Gaius and I found the seeds of a rare plant in the stables that must have fallen from the hooves of the thief's horse. That plant, hmm I think it's called _Twatius Monarchius_, only grows in the far east of the forest of Balor. Hopefully the thief is going back the same way she came."

The wide-eyed words were a lie, the first of the day. In truth, Merlin was tracking the magical aura of Excalibur, its familiar presence easy to register in his mind. He was very glad when the trail of the sword hadn't veered to the east, towards Ealdor. Agrivaine's body, the burnt husks of a few hundred or so Southerons, and rumours of a mighty dragon were bound to attract unwanted attention.

If the young warlock really focused, he could still feel the saddest trace of Freya on the blade. He had to get it back, if not for her then for Camelot, for Arthur. It was odd though that the thief had made no effort to conceal the sword's trace. Even the lowest of warlocks could easily follow the trail the legendary sword left in its wake, let alone the mighty Emrys of legend as she had called him. Maybe she wasn't as skilled with magic as he had first thought or perhaps she...

The soft sound of a bowstring being drawn back forcibly tore Merlin from his thoughts. As he scanned his surrounding for the source of the noise, he heard a heavy thud. Arthur had fallen from his horse and was sprawled in the churned dirt of the road - unmoving. Arthur's horse panicked and fled to the distance as a roaring swathe of men emerged from the underbrush. They wore clanking chain mail and helmets obscured their faces but the royal crests of Odin's kingdom were clear to see on their chests. How had such a force been able to hide within Camelot's borders undetected?

Gwaine's commanding voice pierced Merlin's clouded mind.

"Merlin, take Arthur and get out of here! Protect him with your life!"

"And what are you going to do?"

He shot a cocky grin over his shoulder to the manservant. "Oh Merlin, I think you already know that."

"You can't expect me to leave you alone to-"

"You can, and you will," The words were firm, a voice that left no room for arguments, no matter how much Merlin wished to. Before he could think of a response, a way to convince him from of staying behind, the Knight of Camelot let out a battle cry, something that seemed to echo louder than those of the attackers, and run full speed towards the foreign invaders.

Hesitating for only a second, silently praying his good friend remained alive and safe at the end of this, Merlin slid from his saddle to help his injured friend. The arrow that had struck Arthur was lodged deeply in his left shoulder. Blood streamed from the wound. Right now the King was only unconscious, he'd probably hit his head when he'd fallen and although the arrow hadn't struck anything vital, if the wound wasn't tended to, deadly infection was bound to rear its ugly head.

As the scrawny warlock slung his fallen king across his shoulders, stumbling under the extra weight, his horse having long since abandoned its rider, he muttered under his breath. "Why do you only wear one shoulder guard you prat?!"

The young man began to run – well, waddle away as fast as he could, and spared a glance backwards to see how his friend was fairing. There were too many to fight, even with magic. His lungs throbbed with pain and concern, panic even, as he shouted for Gwaine to follow them – _because he had to try_. All he got in return was a single ghost of a grin from his friend, before the knight brushed a trail of blood from his lip and leapt into the fray once more.

Moments passed, seeming like hours. As Merlin struggled towards the shelter, he risked a glance back when the crash of steel from behind him came to a sudden stop. Gwaine, struck from behind with the pommel of a sword, being kicked by Odin's forces as binds were tied around his struggling hands. Even as concern for his captured friend filled the young warlock his gaze shifted, drawn by an ominous power. Once again shrouded in a dark robe, the woman sat atop a black warhorse, Excalibur seeming out of place at her side. The distance was too great to hear her words, but Merlin didn't need to. The meaning of her outstretched finger was clear. A group of three horsemen immediately obeyed her will, rushing toward the desperate pair, cruel kicks to their horses flanks bringing them ever closer.

Destiny had failed them. All was lost.

**Enjoying the story? Any plot ideas or advice? Feel free to message me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Sorry for the delay but I'm now on holiday at the beach so with luck I'll have lots of time to write over the next week. Enjoy!**

...

Merlin's outstretched hand rose, the other supporting his unconscious friend who was slung across his shoulders. The riders were so close now, he could see the mirth in their eyes. Did the foolish peasant think his hand would shield his King from their spears? He seemed to be muttering a prayer, his last. A boy of just sixteen, the youngest of the three riders, taken by force from his farmstead to join Odin's army to pay his mother debts, almost felt guilty as he leaned into his hose and lowered the point of his spear. He'd never killed a man before and soon he would be a slayer of kings. And unknown to him, the greatest warlock the land had ever seen.

"Wace Ierlic!"

The shout was deep and guttural, coming from the shadows of the trees to Merlin's back. It was the same spell that Merlin had been trying and failing to cast only seconds earlier. Still, the effect was the same. The riders fell from their horses, their spears clattering harmlessly to the ground. From a quick glance, none seemed to have been hurt, almost like cushions had softened their falls, despite the uneven terrain.

Merlin didn't stop to consider what had saved his life, hobbling into the thick tree line, hoping there would be no more pursuers. It was only the fear of the death he had faced only moments ago that drove his feet forward. Why had his magic failed him? It was only the middle of the day and he'd had a good night's sleep after helping Gwen with her speech, so why did it feel like he had just sprinted across the entire Five Kingdoms?

When it seemed his lungs would burst he came to a stop. With a grunt he gingerly lowered his King to the ground and leaned him against a tree trunk, fighting the temptation to pause for breath before tending to Arthur. The arrow was still implanted upright into his liege's shoulder, taunting him.

Arthur's breathing grew shallower by the second, forcing Merlin to take action. Unlike Isolde only a few days ago, this time he could fight death's claim over his friend. If he could remove the arrow, he could use his powers to heal Arthur.

Before the self doubt over both his medical and magical ability set in, Merlin brusquely wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled at the wooden shaft. Thankfully the barb had not struck anything vital and quickly slid out with a sickening sound that brought bile to the Merlin's throat. Once he would have been sick, but years under Gaius' tutelage meant this was certainly not his first neither bloody wound, nor would it be his last. Throwing the arrow to his side while readying a spell, Merlin placed his hand to the wound, warm blood oozing through his fingers.

"Stop!"

The shout, almost a roar, shattered the silence of only Arthur's shallow gasps for air, causing Merlin to leap to his feet with shock.

The wrinkles that clung to the man's face revealed he was old, maybe a slightly younger than Gaius. What was most revealing however was the man's oaken brown eyes. They whispered of a great wisdom and determination yet also seemed to echo a great sadness, like they were constantly haunted by reminders of a long buried past. No words were said but in that single instant knew he could trust this stranger.

Walking by Merlin as if he did not exist, the man knelt down and picked up the casually discarded arrow covered in blood. He gave it a hard look then nodded.

With a few quick movements of his hands, he dug a small hole and gently placed the arrow into it. Then, he scattered dirt over the pool of blood that fallen from Arthur's shoulder to the ground.

To answer Merlin's unspoken question, he spoke softly.

"The blood of a King is more valuable than you know, Emrys'

The man rose from his knees and looked down at Arthur.

"Odin's forces coat most of their weapons with hemlock. You were wise to remove the arrow, but if you sealed the wound with magic, the poison would have had no way of escape. I must drain the poison from the wound now or he will die. If you care for your King's life, you will follow me."

Before heeding an answer, the old man began to hobble away.

At the mention of hemlock dark regrets sprung to Merlin's head unbidden but he brushed them aside as he once again took Arthur onto his shoulders. He had come so close to killing his friend, sealing deadly poison inside of him. His healing magic had killed too many Pendragon's already. The warlock took a deep breath, focussing on Arthurs heartbeat, hammering against his shoulder. When he began to briskly follow in the old mans wake Arthur groaned softly. Being carried like a sack of potatoes was definitely no fun, Merlin remembered how Arthur had just a few months ago raced his lanky servant to safety slung after he had been wounded by one of Morgana's mace toting mercenaries.

Merlin continued to follow the silent old man, knowing the fate of a Albion lay in the stranger's hands.

...

The White Stag was a magnificent creature, bred from the finest for the very purpose of the White Hunt. As Sir Elyan lined up his shot he felt a twinge of regret for being the one to slay such a beautiful beast. He almost lowered his bow, then he remembered his promise to the King. If another hunter captured the beast alive and earned Gwen's kiss then Arthur would be heartbroken, although he'd be too proud to admit it. Sir Elyan didn't relish the idea of some stinking hunter kissing his sister either, so he steadied his hand, breathed in and-

A muffled cry of alarm came from behind him, forcing him abandon his shot and turn his head. Sir Leon was the cause of the noise, his eyes wide with shock, a dagger drawing a thin line of blood at his throat and a gloved hand muffling his cries.

The assailant's face was lined with scars and his gaze was almost as sharp as the curved daggers in his hands. Elyan recognized the distinctive figure immediately. He was one of the many hunters that had gathered in Camelot for the White Hunt. He had sat in the corner of the Rising Sun, calmly rejecting Gwaine's offer of drunken companionship, his hands never far from the bow slung across his shoulders. The hunter's demeanor shined with a deadly confidence that brought butterflies to Elyan's stomach, similar to what he felt as he watched Gaius slowly slipping away in the dungeons of Camelot.

The hunter's voice had calm arrogance to it. He knew he had the upper hand.

"You will shoot the stag. Make sure the shot is non-lethal. If you miss, turn to fire at me, or kill the beast, I promise I will slit your friend's throat."

Elyan returned to his position and seconds later, the White Stag leapt to it's feet, trying to flee only to collide with the ground with spasms running through it's body. The shot had struck true, the stag would not be able to move with an arrow through one of its hind legs.

Before Elyan could even lower his crossbow a fierce blow struck from behind, forcing him to the ground. As his vision faded the stag's desperate cry of defeat rang through the air. In the last seconds before darkness he could think only of his sister's safety.

...

The witch used her soft hands and whispered words to heal an unconscious Gwaine's wounds. He had been a fool to not surrender to Odin's men but she respected his ill-considered loyalty. Such a shame he was pledged to a throne built on the blood of her brothers and sisters of magic. A clearing throat made her look up from her work. She did not like to be interrupted, especially when it involved shirtless men and in the midst of a spell. It was one of Odin's soldiers, not even yet a man. No stubble clung to his cheeks, despite the many hard days of riding the soldiers had endured.

"I'm sorry my lady, but we failed to kill the king. Magic pushed us from our horses"

His tone was brave, his voice unbreaking, but the woman could see the boy shaking with fear.

She smiled at him, a smile so warm that he instinctively smiled back.

Her eyed went gold as she muttered the darkest of magics, the very magics she had slain her father to attain. With only enough time for the most pathetic of whimpers the boy's flesh melted away, leaving behind only a pile of ashes.

She beckoned the commander of Odin's forces, Sekindus, to her side.

"When you return to your kingdom, kill his parents, and send his other kin to the slave markets,"

Sekindus' thoughts were full of rage. The witch had used foul magic to murder one of his men! However he nodded meekly, the only thing keeping him from drawing his sword and killing her his promise to his King, Odin, to aid her in any way he could.

The woman's next words were whispered gently, but all of Odin's forces heard them clearly.

"Do remember, this is the fate you will face if you fail me! Mount you steeds, he who brings me Arthur Pendragon's head will be most handsomely rewarded!"

...

**Sorry for the gap between chapters, but I've just got into reading Game of Thrones so that has taken up a lot of my free time. Did you spot any mistakes? Anything you think I could improve? Have I created an evil enough villain? Feel free to tell me, reviews are much loved!**


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